The Most Common Words, Phrases, And Names In Oscars Acceptance Speeches

Many critics find Oscar acceptance speeches disturbing on account
of their insincerity.

As a fan of the form, I say: nonsense.

Anyone who thinks you can get up on stage at the Dolby Theater in
front of 40 million people, take an atomic blast of approval from
a select audience of your peers, and then fake your response, is
very much mistaken. It peels you like an onion.

Gone is the phalanx of publicists, the glazed interview demeanor,
the self-protective instincts born of a thousand paparazzo
intrusions; and in its place the quick stumble of inarticulacy,
the pink flush of pure need, as the star gulps down all the love
and acceptance they stand revealed to have craved all along.

It's understandably disturbing: we are used to wanting and
desiring them, not them needing us.

Think of the Oscar acceptance speech as a little like the rings
in a tree-trunk: a journey into the innermost recesses of the
psyche, past the rough bark of success, through the kinks and
knots of one's formative years, into the soft sap where childhood
humiliation and Harvey Weinstein lurk.

Thanks to the Academy's new online database, on
which are compiled the speeches of every winner since 1971, we
can now see the exact number and makeup of those rings.

After an afternoon tooling around on it, I can exclusively reveal
that "wow" is the leading exclamation (73), followed by "my God"
(26), "gosh" (12), "oh, God" (6), "this is unbelievable" (5),
"good God" (4), "I can't believe it!" (4), "I don't know what to
say" (4), "this is incredible" (4), "oh, man" (4), "oh no", (3),
"whoa" (3), "what the hell?" (2), and "whoo!" (2), although they
curiously exclude James Cameron's famous opinion, upon winning
for Titanic in 1998, that he was "king of the world – whoohoooo!"

Maybe there was too much internal debate on how to best
transliterate it. Sad to say, for linguistic antiquarians, we
have only one "golly" (Melissa Leo, 2010),
one "holy mackerel" (Meryl Streep, 1979) and one "Lord, have
mercy" (Billy Bob Thornton, 1996), as well as one "I need a
drink" (Tim Chappel, 1994).

So you're up there on stage, sweat prickling your brow, Jack
Nicholson peering at you from the front row. Most winners start
by thanking "the Academy" (48), "my cast and crew" (65) and their
"fellow nominees" (51) – although Sandra Bullock worked her way
through each nominee in turn.

Natalie Portman, pictured, thanked her makeup artist, the camera
operator, and even first AD. Cher thanked her hairdresser. By the
time Titanic's producer Jon Landau had got through a list of 45
names in 1998,
telecast producer Gil Cates wanted "to blow my brains out."

Proving that Hollywood is in hock to the forces of Satanic
darkness, "God" has been name-checked by only four nominees,
including Denzel Washington ("God is great") and Jennifer Hudson
("Look what God can do!").

The Almighty is equalled by Oprah (4), bested by Jack Nicholson
(9), Martin Scorsese (11), Meryl Streep (19), and Steven
Spielberg (38), but all bow before the man sat at the top of the
pyramid: Harvey Weinstein (40) who ranks alongside America (40)
itself for mentions.

Finally, the metric Weinstein has been looking for.
As Meryl Streep put it last year: "I want to thank God –
Harvey Weinstein. The punisher. Old Testament, I guess."

Only 3 actors have skipped their directors in their speech –
Mo'Nique, Alan Arkin and George Clooney. Halle Berry named her
director "a genius". Tilda Swinton said hers "walks on water",
though not before thanking her agent, that most loyal keeper of
the flame, beating out even husbands (37) and children (24).

Women have longer memories than men, frequently going back to
those who gave them their big break. Penélope Cruz thanked no
less than three of her previous directors. Kate Winslet thanked
Peter Jackson at the 2009 Oscars for discovering her with
Heavenly Creatures, 15 years before.

We are now deep into the trunk of the tree. The years are falling
away. Your first break has come and gone. You are back at school,
where schoolyard slights, taunts, and after-school wedgies first
got their claws into your virgin psyche and set you on the course
to stardom.

Time to thank your country of origin (England 16, France 13),
your high school teacher (15), your high school (4), your lawyer
(3), your publicist (3) or your drama teacher (2), though be
careful not to out him or her, as Tom Hanks
did, thus inspiring the plot of the Kevin Kline comedy In
& Out.

Uh-oh! The orchestra has started up! The autocue is asking you to
wrap up! Five winners have read it right back: "Please wrap up."
Most have taken it as a sign to dive a little deeper into their
gene pool: not just wives (181) and husbands (37), but mothers
and moms (125), or fathers and dads (81), grandmothers (11),
grandfathers (6), sisters (32) and brothers (34), although none
quite matched the
Sophoclean weirdness of Angelina Jolie's "I'm so in love with
my brother right now." Jamie Foxx told a touching story about his
grandmother whipping him as a boy. Twenty-four winners mentioned
their children. Catherine Zeta Jones dedicated her Oscar to her
unborn child.

This is where the tears come. Oscar winners are most likely to
become choked up over their nearest and dearest (or, just as
likely, moved by all the neglect they've silently absorbed over
the years), with 187 managing to squeeze out a quivery-voiced "I
love you." The consequences of falling at this final hurdle
cannot be overstated.

In 2006, Hillary Swank, winning best actress for Million Dollar
Baby, attempted to apologize to her husband Chad Lowe for
forgetting to thank him the first time she won, in 1999: "I'm
going to start by thanking my husband, because I'd like to think
I learn from past mistakes." They were divorced two years later.
Sean Penn also forgot to thank Robin Wright when he won for Milk
in 2008. They divorced a year later.

So, you see, far from being insincere, Oscar speeches may be one
of the few times when actors tell the truth.